Triptych
by deadcell
Summary: Rosa, Cecil and Kain grow up. Gender roles and decorum dictate paths to adulthood; longing is not always resolved. Cecil/Rosa, Closeted!Kain.


**Triptych**

**Rosa age 11, Cecil age 12, Kain age 13**

In Rosa's eleventh summer she begins to bleed; her mother tells her that she is now too old to swim with Kain and Cecil, and Rosa feels a panic in her chest because they are now her closest friends in this world. She is told that it's no longer_proper_, it is dishonorable and that she must _be a lady_, focus on her studies of magic and lore and protect her honor until marriage. Rosa does not understand any of this and cries in her bedroom alone, hides her tears and stands obstinate and firm when Cecil's smile fades in the sunlight, when he asks her, simply, _why_.

Cecil doesn't understand this break in companionship, turns away from Rosa and nods his head, knowing there is something he's yet to understand. But Cecil still has Kain, and he thanks the fates that his best friend cannot be taken from him by rules or dictums or law, ever.

Kain begins to feel more comfortable without Rosa around, he tells himself it's because she _is_ a _girl_, after all; and as children grow into adults it's only proper that they commit themselves to the roles the earth has laid out for them. He tell himself this must be why he breathes a sigh of relief when Cecil meets him there in the lakeside forest on the outskirts of town, when Cecil tells Kain that _Rosa won't come out to play anymore._

**Rosa age 15, Cecil age 16, Kain age 17**

Rosa sometimes lies awake at night, alone in her room; she finds herself thinking more and more about Cecil and the ways in which he's grown tall, how his shoulders have broadened, how soft his hair appears, the feel of his body heat when he is close to her. When she thinks of these things she runs hesitant hands over her body, touches herself between her legs in the spot where an ache now often gathers, closes her eyes and imagines the smooth-etched line of Cecil's collarbone.

Cecil still sees Rosa, though now it's in the midst of courtly politics and chaperoned conversation. His blood quickens at the sight of her and his muscles tense at the prospect of being near her again, memories of youth and laughing and touching and wrestling. Rosa has changed, but when Cecil looks in her eyes he knows that it's not _really_her; that the girl he's grown up with has been shaped by the hands of their elders, that there are other words waiting on her tongue, other thoughts corralled there in her mind. He bids his farewell, time after time; and when summer comes again his only companion now is Kain, and Cecil laughs and swims and smiles, pulls off his clothing amidst the grass and flowers, sheds his sweat into lake water in the blistering heat.

It's hard for Kain to watch when Cecil takes off all his clothes, and Kain reluctantly archives the sight in his memory. Without Rosa around the pair can fully strip to swim, laugh and splash as naturally as babes. And when Kain touches himself at night he tries not to picture a face; only long hair, skin warm and weathered, a body much like his own but different still, patterns of flesh and bone new to learn and touch. Rosa's hair is _also_ long and fair and Kain reminds himself of this; but when he closes his eyes he thinks only _Cecil_ and allows himself this vision, tells himself it's only because _it's the only thing familiar, now._

**Rosa age 17, Cecil age 18, Kain age 19**

The Dark Knight, the heir to Baron's throne; Rosa considers these things as she watches her friend, Cecil, the little boy she knew in times both light and dark. She stares at lines of history in dusty tomes, practices her skills and learns to_heal_. When Rosa speaks to Cecil now, on parapets of castle and heavy rugs on floor of court, she knows that this is what she's meant to be, that Cecil is a Knight now, protector, conqueror; and Rosa is to stand besides him as refuge, his support, his white-clad tourniquet.

Cecil swings his sword at the hay-stuffed manikin, practices his techniques and trains his mind to think of _anything but her_, the White Mage now in the shadows of his practice. When Rosa is indoctrinated into the Order of her magic, Cecil is there and he congratulates her, bows low and when he looks up into her eyes he sees something like fear, though it's nothing like the longing he knows is mirrored in his own eyes, blue and still and falsely focused.

Sometimes Kain and Cecil spar and sometimes Kain just watches and offers encouragement, studies the smooth ripple of muscle beneath Cecil's skin. Kain learns the practiced movement of his lance and how the weapon becomes one with body, how consciousness must be focused into the mastery of the Jump, how his father watches him with a judging eye and a wish speaking _you must be a man, protect your Kingdom, serve in the council of your Knights._But there are no Knights; there is only Cecil, commander-in-training of the Red Wings, distant now only in practice and lifestyle, pledged in love to Rosa. Kain's friend. A woman.

**Rosa age 18, Cecil age 19, Kain age 20**

Rosa takes Kain's hands in hers, bright and exuberant as rays of remembered summer sun and says _thank you, thank you_ in response to Kain's _congratulations_, in response to Kain's acceptance of participation in the vows that will bind Rosa and Cecil's love. Kain nods, gently kisses the back of Rosa's hand in the way he has been taught, tells her _it is an honor, Rosa_, and turns away from his childhood friend, lends himself to practice. When finally alone he places both hands on his lance, lunges and swings at inanimate targets, lets tears run down his face in denial as he reminds himself of_decorum, masks, roles_.

Cecil stands at the forefront of the men of the Red Wings, bows his head to the King of Baron as the King speaks, tells Cecil _you will find the Crystal_. Cecil is doubtful but he thinks of Rosa, his betrothed to whom he must return. The King continues, tells Cecil that _a Dark Knight should have a Dragoon to accompany him_, and beside him Kain bows, tense. When all is said and done Cecil turns to leave, to take charge of his command; and when he looks at Kain his friend's eyes are reassuring, barely visible beneath Kain's helmet to anyone but Cecil. The eyes of Cecil's companion. The eyes of Cecil's friend.

**Two Weeks Earlier; Cecil age 19, Kain age 20**

Kain shrugs when Cecil asks why Kain's voice is so sad nowadays, why Kain seems so distant beneath the honored title of Dragoon Knight. Cecil wonders why Kain is not the type to speak much about women; Kain listens when Cecil talks about Rosa, but he rarely has input, no experience to share. When Kain says _I am happy for you, Cecil_, the softness of his voice is contrasted by the tension in his fist as he closes his fingers around a handful of grass, rips the blades from the ground in a short jerk. Cecil's eyes are beautiful and questioning when they meet with Kain's, and it is all Kain can do to force a smile at the one person on this earth who knows him best, the same person who is leaving him. Kain lets the blades fall from his hand as he opens his fist, some of the dew-sticky blades clinging to his lance-calloused palm as he tells Cecil _there is no one better suited to love you_ as he smiles. As he lies.


End file.
